


Late Nineties Bedroom Rock

by autoschediastic



Series: Jetset Sexlife [2]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 03:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoschediastic/pseuds/autoschediastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's ridiculous," Adam insists, twisting around to dig through his carry-on. "I'm giving you your present now to make you stop fornicating with your car."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Nineties Bedroom Rock

Since Tommy really is the best of all things, on the day Adam flies back in to LAX, Tommy is at the airport waiting with his old beater of a car. Standing on the kerb, Adam stares at it doubtfully. Tommy dumps his luggage in the trunk. The shocks squeal in protest.

"I guess it definitely counts as going incognito," Adam says, a wary sideways twist to his mouth.

"Dude, you're wearing fucking leopard-print leggings, what the fuck." By some miracle, no paps had descended like vultures on a fresh carcass the second they stepped outside. Tommy's chalking it up to his excellent diversionary skills. Nobody on the lookout for Adam's ride would expect a trusty K-car convertible.

Adam looks down at his legs--his long, long legs, every muscle highlighted lovingly in a ridiculous cotton-spandex mix--with a frown. "They're comfy."

"And make your junk look huge." Tommy opens up the passenger’s side door with a flourish.

Adam's mouth crumples.

"For fuck's sake, get in," Tommy says, rolling his eyes. "Your junk is always huge."

"It's not the state of my junk I'm worried about," Adam says, gingerly settling his diva ass into the seat.

Tommy cranks the key and the engine turns over with a geriatric wheeze. He strokes the wheel, says, "Atta girl," and it kicks in with a roar, dialling back to a low purr as he slides her into gear. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Adam staring. He lifts an eyebrow.

"That was disturbingly sexual," Adam says.

Caressing the worn gear shift with his thumb, Tommy hikes his eyebrow higher.

"That shouldn't be hot." Adam resolutely turns to stare at the taillights of the Lexus in front of them. "It's not hot."

Tommy jacks it a little, grinning.

"It's ridiculous," Adam insists, twisting around to dig through his carry-on. "I'm giving you your present now to make you stop fornicating with your _car_."

"Thought you said you forgot?" Tommy says. When Adam glances back his way, he flexes his fingers, curls them tighter. Adam's gaze gets stuck for a split-second. That's good enough for Tommy. Point made, he slides his hand off the stick.

Adam settles back into the seat, sunk low with the sprawl of his legs taking up all the space to the dash.

"You're so fucking easy," Tommy says, a stupid little laugh he can't hold back tacked on the end. "Where's my present?"

Skimming a hand through his hair, elbow coming to rest on the window, Adam says, "I changed my mind."

Grinning so wide the soccer mom trying to merge in from the highway exit is having serious doubts about her desire to eke in front of him, Tommy says, "Fucker."

*

Pulling up the long drive to Adam's place, Tommy kills the engine and jumps out before Adam's done untangling his three dozen necklaces from the seatbelt. He hauls Adam's door open, standing impatiently by for Adam to finally climb out.

"Wow," Adam says, eyes a little wide, "full service, huh?"

"Yep." Grabbing the front of Adam's shirt, Tommy shoves him back against the car, shoves a knee between his legs. It takes all of a heartbeat for Adam to decide getting the air Tommy just knocked out of his lungs back into them is totally not as important as kissing Tommy stupid. Hands come up to frame Tommy's face, leather half-gloves soft and body-warm, and Adam takes over, fucking his tongue into Tommy's mouth sweet and hard and perfect.

The second Adam switches angles, Tommy slurs, "Blowjobs now."

Adam laughs, kisses him again. "Out here?"

That wasn't exactly what Tommy had in mind, but why the fuck not. He goes for the waistband of Adam's fucking crazy-ass pants, sinking down.

"Fuck, I was joking," Adam gasps, grabbing him under the armpits to haul him back up before his knees touch pavement.

"Whatever," Tommy says, getting a hand on Adam's dick. Either there's nothing under those leggings--which Tommy seriously sort of doubts--or the thought of Tommy sucking him off in the driveway in the middle of the afternoon is doing more for Adam than Adam wants to let on. Tommy's fingers find the head of Adam's cock, stroke over the slight curve of the ridge, feeling it fill out, and Adam's eyes start to close, his head falling back. "Think I like these pants after all."

"Oh my god," Adam blurts, jolting upright. He firmly hauls Tommy's hand away. "Keep that up and no presents."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tommy says, but he behaves himself, going to the trunk to haul out Adam's luggage. "I _deserve_ presents for keeping your dick up."

Adam groans. Nabbing his carry-on out of the back, he slings it over his shoulder and struts up the walk. Tommy watches him go. Those pants do pretty amazing things for Adam's ass, too, and it's seriously not like Adam's ass needs things done.

Then Adam disappears inside the house. Tommy slams the trunk shut and hightails it for the door. He is so gonna get laid.

Dumping Adam's shit in the living room somewhere, Tommy heads for the kitchen. Adam's at the fridge chugging a bottle of water. He's still got his boots on, heavy, clunky ones with a heel he so doesn't need, and the sun's on his face, highlighting the stark fan of his lashes, the sharp curve of his throat, and he's so fucking hot Tommy is going to die.

"Wait!" Adam says, stumbling back a step, hand thrown out to fend Tommy off. He wipes at his mouth with his other arm. "Present first."

Tommy slumps back against the counter. "Fuck, alright. Give me my fucking present, and then can I please suck your brains out through your dick?"

Adam blinks, says, "Okay," slightly dazed, and roots one-handed through the bag sitting on the table. He comes up with a soft leather wrap a lot like the one Sutan keeps makeup brushes in.

"Seriously?" Tommy asks, holding out a hand to take it. It crinkles as he unbuckles the strap to flip it open, and then he honestly almost drops the fucking thing. Half a dozen thin metal sounds gleam up at him, all carefully sealed in sterile plastic. He flops open the other side, gaze trialling across the neat row to end on one as thick as his fucking pinky. "Holy fuck."

Adam picks at the label on his water. "I went back to see if there were any at the show."

Tommy stares down at the sounds, case held reverently in both hands. Sure, he'd thought about giving sounding a shot. He'd looked it up, checked it out, jerked off imagining it. But he is a fucking tiny guy, okay? Nicely proportional, and packing a little extra below the belt, but he knows his dick, and his dick has a tiny, tiny slit. There's no fucking way taking even the smallest sound for the first time is gonna be easy. Kinda like how taking Adam's dick the first time wasn't exactly easy, either.

Fingers curl beneath Tommy's chin, tilt his face up. "They're not for you, baby," Adam says, skimming a light kiss across his mouth. "They can be, but that's not what I was thinking about when I picked them out."

Lust like a fist punches into Tommy's gut. He stares up at Adam, bright afternoon sunlight spilled all around them, and all he can see is Adam laid out flat on his back, sweat-slick and twisting, writhing as he grasps at tangled sheets, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open on sweet desperate gasps.

He barely catches the saucy slant to Adam's mouth as Adam says, "That's the idea, baby," and kisses him one more time, soft and fleeting, before slipping away.

Tommy frantically blinks reality back into focus. Fumbling the case shut so he doesn't lose one of the sounds on his way, he takes off for the bedroom, nearly fucking killing himself as he rounds the corner and trips over Adam's boots. A few feet up the hallway lies Adam's discarded jacket. One sock sits outside the bedroom, the other inside, and the door jangles as Tommy bumps into it, Adam's necklaces strung over the knob. Adam is beside the bed, pants in a heap at his feet, his back stretched out long and lean as he skims his shirt off and lets it drop.

"Fuck," Tommy says, knees locked, plastic crinkling as his grip on the sounding kit goes white-knuckled. "Shit. _Fuck_."

Adam drops a small bottle Tommy hasn't seen before onto the bed, then follows it down, settling near the headboard with his back against a mound of pillows. He's half-hard already, getting thicker, and he curls his hand near his cock like he wants Tommy to see, like Tommy isn't fucking staring at him already. He gives the sounds a pointed look. "I won't say no to your mouth on my dick if you want to save those for later."

"No, no," Tommy says, clambering onto the bed on his knees, shuffling up into the space Adam makes between spread legs, "we can- _shit_. I don't even fucking know." He gives a nervous laugh, wrinkling his nose at how wussy it sounds. "Think I fucking creamed my shorts already."

Adam laughs, genuinely pleased, like it wouldn't be a fucking _disaster_ if Tommy turned into a one-hit wonder overnight, and takes hold of Tommy's arm just above the elbow to pull him down. Tommy drops the case, the undone clasp falling open, and slaps both hands to the pillows to prop himself up. "I kinda love that about you," Adam says, following it up with more kisses, still soft and sweet.

"I'm easy?" Tommy guesses, and tries to go for more, get his tongue into Adam's mouth.

"Definitely," Adam says, one hand curled around Tommy's throat to hold him off, their mouths almost touching. "Sometimes I think you forget how hot it is to be in bed with somebody who loves sex as much as you do."

The best Tommy's got in response to that is, "Uh," 'cause he kinda thought that went the other way around. Adam's the sex addict here. He's just keeping up.

"You want to fuck me so bad sometimes, it's like you're gonna die if you don't," Adam says, obviously not done with the wordy foreplay even though Tommy's hand is creeping down his belly, aiming for his cock. "But you're so quick to get on your knees for me, Tommy Joe, you just, _fuck_."

Adam's eyes flutter shut, hips jerking as Tommy jacks him. Grinning, Tommy resettles his grip, gives Adam another firm tug, and another, inching close as Adam's hold goes slack, closer, finally sealing their mouths together, sliding his tongue against Adam's. He's so had enough of this fooling around shit. He goes fast and hard right from the start, fucking Adam's mouth, forcing Adam to match him or get swept away trying. Adam's hands skip from his arms to the bed to his shoulders, holding on tight, one skidding up to cup the back of Tommy's head. When Adam tries to ease back, Tommy doesn't let him, doesn't even care about the hard tug on his hair as he pushes forward, keeps it going until it's more teeth and tongue in the hot space between them than real kisses.

"We're so fucking trying the sounds," Tommy says the second he lets Adam go. He wasn't even thinking about the fucking things anymore until that second, and now it's all he's got on his mind. He drops back on his haunches to yank off his shirt. "That okay with you?"

Breathing hard, chest flushed and cock thick, Adam says, "Fuck yes, that's okay with me." He hauls his knees up as he sinks lower, lets his legs fall wide open around Tommy.

Tommy fumbles the bottle he snatched up off the covers. "Shit. Maybe I should fucking jerk off first," he mutters, thumbing open the cap, squirting way too much watery antibacterial shit all over his hands. He skims it up over his forearms until it evaporates. Then he takes a deep breath. Then another. "Fuck, you're really hard."

"It'll work either way," Adam says, all quiet confidence, like he's fucking done this before. "Baby, I read all the same things you did."

"So you haven't-"

Adam's smile is way too happy for a guy about to get a metal rod stuck up his dick. "Nope. First time."

"Yeah, okay. Shit," Tommy laughs, scraping at his lip with his teeth. "That kinda doesn't help in any useful way."

Carefully, as if it's gonna fucking bite him or something, Tommy drags the smallest sound free of the kit. Adam twists around to nab the lube out of the nightstand, one hand wrapped loosely around the base of his cock as he smears the head shiny wet. He thumbs at his slit a little, like he's testing the waters, and Jesus fucking Christ, he's actually going to let Tommy do this.

"Stop thinking so much," Adam says, and okay, to be fair here, that is probably not the best advice all things considered. Tommy seriously wonders about Adam sometimes. Most times. "Or I'll say something horribly mushy about how you're gonna take such good care of me, 'cause you always do."

Tommy wrinkles his nose. "Jerk," he says, but the tight ball in his belly quits buzzing with nerves, anticipation creeping slowly in. He wets his lips, slicks up the sound, wets his lips again. Impatience beats at him like wings, but he forces his hands steady and takes hold of Adam's cock just above Adam's fingers. It only takes him a second to figure out what sort of pressure opens up Adam's slit. When he skims the slim bit of metal over it, he seriously can't even fucking believe this is happening. His dick's been aching for awhile, forgotten in a rush of nerves, but it all comes flooding back now. He's so turned on it actually fucking hurts. He shuffles on his knees, trying for a little relief.

"Like that, that's what I mean," Adam says, voice tight. "You haven't even done anything to me yet and you want to come."

Tommy whines, "Shut up," like a total loser, teeth clamping down hard on the inside of his cheek as he circles the sound around the head of Adam's cock, pushing lube through a small bubble of precome. It's not even much of anything at all when the sound's tip catches on Adam's slit, just that suddenly, _holy fuck_ , it's right there, he can angle the sound up, give it a gentle nudge, and a sliver of it slips inside Adam, inside his fucking _dick_.

Adam's whole body snaps taut. His eyes are wide, fixed on his cock. "Oh my god."

"What?" Tommy asks, ready to pull it right the hell out again. "What, shit, is it-"

"No, don't," Adam says, and okay, Tommy's three seconds from honest panic now. "I can fucking feel it when you move. I just, lemme." His fingers shake as he drags them slowly up from the base of his cock to the tip, down again. The sound slips in another fraction. His mouth drops open. The muscles in his thighs tense, relax.

"Okay?" Tommy asks, and holy shit, that doesn't sound like his voice. "Good?"

Biting his lip, Adam says, "Yeah, yeah, it's good," his free hand coming to rest on Tommy's thigh, gripping lightly. "Keep going."

When Tommy jacks him slowly, steadying the sound to let it slip in deeper, Adam lets go of his cock to fist the sheets. Tommy can actually fucking _watch_ the shivers going through him, his belly tightening, legs shifting fitfully, and fuck, Tommy wants to know what it's like as much as he wants to see Adam take it.

Then the smooth slide stutters to a stop. "Hold on," Tommy says, "gotta," and he starts sliding the sound carefully free. Adam makes this tortured noise, full-on wrecked, his hips arching up off the bed and his fingertips clawing into Tommy's thigh.

Before Tommy can say a word, Adam blurts, "Fuck, Tommy, oh my god. You don't, that was so fucking good, put it the fuck _back_."

And now Tommy can't even speak if he tried. He clumsily smears more lube on the sound, setting the tip back to Adam's slit--Adam's stretched slit, Tommy just fucking _opened it up_ with cold hard metal--letting gravity take it as deep as it'd been before, deeper. Adam jerks, eyes flying wide as the sound jostles. Tommy drops down fast, pinning Adam's legs with his body, Adam's hips with his forearm. He got both Adam's cock and the sound in one hand, holding it as steady as he can, but Adam's not keeping still, not listening to him even as he's hissing Adam's name.

"Easy," Tommy tries, pressing his mouth to the soft inside of Adam's thigh. "Baby, come on, you gotta stay still. I wanna," and he trails off, not sure he should say what he wants, but he ends up kissing the side of Adam's dick and saying it anyway. "I want to see you take more."

Adam makes a noise like a whimper, and fuck Tommy sideways if he's ever heard a sound like that come flying out of Adam's mouth. With Adam, even when he's on his knees getting pounded, it's always dirty sweet things, or hard, rough-edged and driving for more. The noises he's making now, they're nothing like that. The look on his face isn't, either.

Tommy knows that look, though. He's seen it on his own face often enough. It's that feeling where you want more and think you shouldn't. Where you're almost afraid of it, and the fear's amazing, singing electric in your veins. Pushing up onto one elbow, Tommy drags his open mouth up Adam's cock all the way to the sound, tasting sharp metal and soft flesh as he curls his tongue around it.

"Oh god," Adam groans, words half-formed like they're ripped straight from the pit of his stomach. His head falls back, throat working as swallows. "I can't."

And Tommy knows that tone, too. He's sure he does. So sure that he doesn't stop, that he drags the sound slowly free instead, Adam's voice rising steadily in pitch until it cuts out entirely as Tommy lets go, body-warm metal sliding slowly back inside. Adam's not moving anymore now, both of his hands twisted up in the sheets, his head pressed hard into the pillows, every smooth curve of muscle standing out in stark shadow-edged relief. Tommy groans, licking up the precome seeping out around the sound, a familiar salt tang exploding on his tongue thick with the taste of steel.

"No way," Tommy says, breath caught in his throat. "no fucking way, you didn't," and he pulls the sound free all the way this time. Thin, shaking strings of come stretch long and sticky from Adam's slit to the sound, snapping and clinging to Tommy's face as he sucks Adam's dick into his mouth, holds it there as come pools sluggishly on his tongue. He swallows hard, heart like a lump caught in his throat, and slides his tongue over Adam's slit, into it. A fresh spill of come seeps free and Tommy pulls back, dips his tongue in it, right into Adam's tiny little stretched hole, so Adam can watch, so he can _see_ what they both did to him.

Trembling fingers skim over Tommy's cheek, bury into his hair. He swallows again, heartbeat thudding in his ears, his whole body one fucking giant ache, and looks up at Adam's face. His gaze gets stuck on Adam's lips bitten shiny red. When his eyes finally meet Adam's, Adam says, flicking a quick glance down, "Jerk off on it."

Tommy moans Adam's name like it's something filthy and reverent, shuffling awkwardly up onto his knees to wrench open his zip, get his fucking dick out. There isn't enough lube on his hand to make it really smooth but it's the best fucking thing he's felt in days, and his dick's fucking soaking wet anyway, precome still leaking from the tip and smearing all over his knuckles. He makes it five seconds, maybe a whole ten from the moment he pushes his cock flush against Adam's to the moment he blows it like a fucking teenager. He hooks a couple of fingers around Adam's softening dick, whispers, "Sorry, sorry, gotta," though he's not really all that sorry, Adam can take it, Adam's practically fucking humping his hand. When he shoots, he forgets how to breathe, forgets how to fucking exist outside the pure knife-sharp pleasure slicing through him. He ends up collapsing halfway on top of Adam, forehead pressed to Adam's collarbone, mouth wide open and throat working desperately for even a scrap of air to make it into his lungs.

This time, Adam's the one stroking a hand down his side, face pressed close and softly saying, "Easy, sweetheart, you did good," into his hair.

"Fuck you," Tommy mutters, no heat to it, all muffled and slurred because he so can't move yet. "I was fucking amazing."

Adam's laugh reverberates up into Tommy's chest. "You'd sort of have to be."

Though it'd probably take less effort to remake the universe, Tommy turns his head to the side so he can squint up at Adam.

"Think about it," Adam says, lacing his hands together around Tommy's back. "If you're that obsessed with something, chances are pretty good you'd be awesome at it."

Tommy closes his eyes, tucking his face into the crook of Adam's neck. "You are so fucking insane."

"I'd sort of have to be," Adam says, dropping a smacking kiss to the top of Tommy's head. "Go run me a bath."

Wincing, Tommy cups a gentle hand protectively over Adam's junk. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"No," Adam admits, curling a finger under Tommy's jaw to lead him in for a real kiss, the slight tremble of his lips giving away that he's maybe not so composed as he's making out to be. "But I just let you get me off with a piece of metal in my dick, so you're gonna baby me for awhile."

With a grunt, Tommy heaves himself up. "Okay, _fine_ ," he says, like it's a big trial or something to have Adam go to pampered putty in his hands. He's not even sure what to do with the fact that he spectacularly blew his load all over Adam all of three minutes ago and even the tiny mention of what they just did sort of makes him feel like he's ready for round two, like he can't breathe unless Adam's touching him _right the hell now_ , so he stays where he is until Adam's laughing at him, and shoving at him telling him to move his ass, and then finally, fucking finally, pulling him close to kiss him again.


End file.
